


Truest Form of Magic

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Abused Jensen Ackles, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Anxious Jensen, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Love, Brotherly Padackles, Caring Jared, Familiar Jensen, Familiars and Witches, Fantasy, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Love, Gen, Healing, Hurt Jensen Ackles, Magic, Magic Creatures, Magic is Real Goddess, Mountain Lion Jensen, Multi, Protective Jared Padalecki, Shy Jensen Ackles, Witch Jared, Witch Misha, Witch Vicki, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-01 13:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10190483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Familiars are rare in the world of Magic. Not every Witch or Wiccan is granted a Familiar by Lady Magic. Familiars need their Witches to provide an out for the magical energy swirling inside of them; their Witches need their Familiars for the companionship and love that only a Familiar could provide. The magical boost in power is just an added bonus for most. The other percentage, which thankfully was a small portion of the whole, only wanted Familiars for their magic power. Familiars of such Witches are abused and neglected more often than not, and once the Witch thought their Familiar no longer of any use, they were found dead.At this point, all Jensen wants to do is die.





	1. Jensen

**Author's Note:**

> Been watching a lot of SPN Con and fanvids, and this popped up out of nowhere. I'm a huge magic and fantasy nerd, I'd basically be Charlie if I had the computer talent and the hots for women. (Straight as a ruler, sorry ladies! (Insert awkward wink)) Jared and Jensen are just too adorable.  
> This could become romantic Padackles, but I can't be sure. We'll just see where it goes, I love both Gen and Danneel, but I just don't know where it'll go at this point. Kinda exciting, isn't it?

At this point, all Jensen wants to do is die. The floor he’s currently sprawled out on is cold and unforgivably hard, the sharp metal of the collar fastened tightly around his neck barely loose enough for him to be able to breathe. His stomach isn’t really a stomach at all, going so long with so little to eat and drink-he was only given enough to be kept alive-has kept him as nothing more than a weak sack of skin, fur, and bones. His honey golden fur was matted with dirt, grime, blood and other unpleasant things, Jensen hasn’t been able to give himself a proper bath in, well, he didn’t know how long it has been since he was captured. It felt like centuries since he last walked free, waiting for the day when he would find _him_. A pitiful whining sound bleeds out of Jensen’s throat, attempting to curl in on himself, but whining even more in pain as fire shoots across his long, skinny body. The collar tightens around his neck at the movement, and Jensen slides back into his original position, laying lax and heavy on the icy floor of his cage. Not even his fur was thick enough to shield him from the cool temperature. He just wants to die, for his pain and suffering at the hands of his Warlock captors to end.

Familiars were rare in the world of Magic. Not exceedingly so, but enough to say that not every Witch or Wiccan was granted a Familiar by Lady Magic. Familiars are gifts to Witches and Wiccans as companions, guides, and magical boosts to their Witch or Wiccan’s original power. Sometimes even partners and lovers, though that was a rare state of companionship between a Witch and his or her Familiar to partake in. Familiars need their Witches to provide an out for the magical energy swirling inside of them, having no way to project or manifest it themselves except for shifting in or out of their familiar forms, or the telepathic connections with their Witches; their Witches need their Familiars for the companionship and love that _only_ a Familiar could provide. The magical boost in power is just an added bonus for most. The other percentage, which thankfully was a small portion of the whole, only wanted Familiars for their magic power. Witches with Familiars are always a bit more powerful than the Witches without. Familiars of such Witches are abused and neglected more often than not, and once the Witch thought their Familiar no longer of any use, they were found dead. To a Witch, to Magic herself, a Witch abusing his/her Familiar is an abhorrent act, much less killing them over power. Familiars were created as companions, not servants and slaves.

Jensen had been birthed to a mother Familiar and father Witch, one of the rare romantic pairings of a Witch and Familiar, in a litter of three, with one brother Familiar and a sister Witch. He couldn’t remember the exact date of his birth, just remembered that there had been snow on the ground and falling from the sky when he had opened his eyes for the first time. The little white fluffs falling to the ground outside the tiny cottage that his parents had lived in had been the first sight of his very long life. Unless killed by force or disease, Familiars are immortal until the meeting and connection of and to their Witch, in which their lifespan either shortens or increases to match that of their Witch’s. Jensen lets out a hollow and morose wail, cut short by the scratchiness of his throat, at the thought of never meeting his Witch, the one thing he had been so excited for since he was a cub.

His mother and father had lived a long and happy life, leaving this world and returning to Magic just a few decades or so ago at the ages of four and a half millennia. Illness had claimed his father, and his mother had gone with him, unable to go on without her Witch and love for any longer. She’d decided that her cubs were well enough grown, well enough learned, to continue in the world without her. Jensen had been the only one that she had really worried about, as when she had left, he had yet to find his Witch. His brother and sister had already found and were Bonded with their companions, but Jensen had assured her, tearfully, that he would be fine. Jensen had sat with them until they had gone, refusing to leave his mother’s side.

The thoughts of his family bring tears to Jensen’s eyes, soaking his already-filthy and tear-soaked cheek and face fur. His sister was supposed to be married to another Witch soon. His brother would be watching over his Witch’s coming children, helping to raise them. Did they realize that he was missing? Were they out there, searching for him now? Jensen mews mournfully, squeezing his green eyes shut as his thoughts take on a dark turn. He would never meet his brother’s wards, never witness his sister unite in love, would never be able to get to know his nieces or nephews. He would never meet his Witch. The one person he was created to be a companion and guide to, he would never know. Jensen is openly, but quietly, mindful that the Warlocks keeping him could very well hear and decide to punish if he were being too noisy, sobbing now, his heart tearing to shreds at the thoughts swirling around in his brain.

It had been a normal day for Jensen when this nightmare had begun. He had been padding home in animal form after visiting with his brother for the day, who lived with his Witch in a small town in Washington. There were plenty of forest areas around where his brother lived that spotting a coyote wouldn’t raise too much of a red flag nowadays, and Jensen lived just across state, near the Washington/Canadian border. He had been hunting some game for supper, contemplating whether or not he should visit his sister in Idaho before her wedding in a few months, when he was ensnared in a Warlock’s trap.

Jensen flinches as he remembers the pain from the collar first being snapped on, remembers the panic as the collar sapped his magical strength from his body, milking every bit that could be found inside him and feeding it to his captors. He remembers the old Familiar he had shared his cage with, the one that had been thrown out after being drained dry two days after Jensen’s arrival. Jensen remembers the agony from ‘training’. Pain came if he made too much noise. Pain came if he tried to escape, which he had, at first. Pain came if he tried to communicate telepathically with any of the others caged here. Pain just _came_ , and it never stops.

Jensen freezes, his torn ear twitching slightly as he hears the tell-tale scrape of the bottom of the door against the cold cement floor. His heart hammers as he hears the hurried footsteps, thick and clunky, launching across the ground. Whomever it was, they were in a hurry. Jensen squeezes his eyes shut, waiting for whomever it was to come to his cage and rattle it, jarring his bones to give him some jolts before the actual ‘training’ began. He just hopes that _hurried_ does not mean _angry_.

Then a scent hits him, and Jensen is stunned. The scent is not malicious or soured, like the odors of his captors. This scent is _sweet_ , smelling of wisteria and sandalwood with heavy notes of freshly ground coffee and an underlying, hidden scent of coconut. It’s an unusual scent, and it’s one that Jensen does not expect. Unexpected as well is the burst of warmth and the sensation that screams **_home_** inside Jensen’s chest, and he has to fight the urge to press his head against the bars to his cage to get closer to the source of the calming and soothing scent. He has to stay absolutely still, he can’t go through another beating…he can’t…

“ _Oh_.” A voice gasps, and Jensen’s ear twitches in shock. He knows the voices of his Warlock captors like he knows his own, and that wasn’t the voice of _them_. It was another voice entirely, male and thick with bewilderment, distress, and _agony_. Jensen’s heart thuds against his ribs that are clearly visible underneath his mucky gold fur as the scent that had shocked him so much before is thrust suddenly under his nose, and he flinches away from an approaching object, whimpering. “Oh, you poor thing,” The voice coos. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to hurt you, no one’s ever going to hurt you again.”

The statement confuses Jensen, so much that he doesn’t notice that the object before is coming closer, until it settles on the top of his head gently. Jensen freezes at the soft touch, fingers leisurely brushing in between his ears, and magic suddenly crackles to life around Jensen, and Jensen is so stunned by the establishing Connection that his eyes fly open.

Only to see a pair of glimmering hazel orbs, weighted down with horrible heartbreak, and now, shock. “Oh _Magic_.” The Witch breathes, stunned and horrified. His hand is frozen stiff on top of Jensen’s head, his fingertips just barely touching the scruff of his neck where the collar sits.  Jensen barely registers that the Witch is moving forward, crowding into Jensen’s personal space, until there’s a clinking sound underneath him of metal striking metal, and his airway is no longer constricted by the collar.

Jensen’s emerald eyes fall back onto the hazel orbs of his Witch before blackness consumes his vision and mind.


	2. Jared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I kept hitting roadblocks where this story was concerned. But I hope this makes up for it!

After nearly ten grueling hours, Jared is ready to collapse from exhaustion. His heart is torn to shreds, tears soaking his face and his eyes assuredly red and puffy from said tears. Jared sinks to the floor, unable to hold his own weight anymore. He slides down the wall adjacent to the cracked door of his bedroom, pulling his knees to his chest, burying his face into his arms, and attempting to fight off the fit of hysterics that he had been dancing on the line of for the past eleven hours.

Jared had never imagined that he would be granted a Familiar. After discovering his mother’s Grimoire in the attic of his father’s cottage when he was only seventeen, he had immersed himself in the Wiccan world. He loves his art, he loves the craft and how simple it is, how utterly _natural_ it is. Magic is a force of nature, a beauty in the wind, and Jared loves his life as a Witch, loves how it makes his life so much simpler.

But he also knows that Familiars are rare beings. Not extremely, but he knows that there was a high chance that he would never find a Familiar for himself, and he is okay with that knowledge. Of course, it didn’t stop Jared from wishing for one every now and again, during every Ostara, but he never imagined that his wish would be granted. Not for the extra power, but for the companionship.

As much as Jared loves and enjoys his life as a Witch, it is more mundane than it really appears. After his Apprenticeship had ended with his Master Witch, some thirty years or so after Jared had first discovered his mother’s Grimoire, Jared had decided to relocate to Northern Colorado, and had settled down in a small town called Moonlight Hollow, where all walks of the supernatural life happened to pass through, and Jared had been no different. He had been surprised when he discovered just how much of the magical world bled into the community of the Hollow, everyone who lived there had some connection to the world of the mystical. Some were Hunters, others were Witches and Wiccans like himself, others from the dimension of Avalon. Some were even completely human, but were enamored by the enchanted feel of the town, like it had jumped straight from the pages of a child’s storybook. Jared had learned from a neighbor, after noticing the walks of life that lived in the community, that Moonlight Hollow had been founded as a place for all magical creatures and peoples to come and enjoy a stable home and life. Moving around every decade or so when noticed that you failed to age, the founder of the community had wanted to provide an environment where you only had to leave if you absolutely wanted to. Jared had been enthralled, and loved that he could be a Witch and still enjoy a seemingly ‘apple pie’ life at the same time, not having to hide who or what he was.

Jared thinks back to the Familiar in his bedroom, sleeping soundly thanks to the magical morphine that Jared had given him. The spell he’d put on his Familiar was meant to ease and numb pain, and by association, induce sleep, to give Jared room to work without his Familiar moving around too much. Jared has never felt more abundantly grateful for the fact that they are in the beginning of the summer holiday, meaning that school was let out for the season until late August, which meant that Jared has until late August until he must return to work. Jared happily served as Moonlight Hollow High School’s World History and Entry to Latin teacher, and had for the past two or three decades.

Jared curls deeper in on himself, stifling a sob as he doesn’t want to wake the striking mountain lion sleeping just beyond the door. The state that Jared had discovered him in…Tears roll down Jared’s cheeks before he can stop them, and thanks Lady Magic with every portion of his soul for the volunteer organization he’d been a part of for the past decade or so, called Magic’s Beloved. Jared had aided in the rescue of several enchanted and mystical creatures, but never dreamed that he would find a Familiar, _his_ Familiar, suffering inside a Warlock’s basement, beaten, whipped, and nearly starved. Jared’s hands glow luminescent emerald green at the thought of those _bastards_ that caused his Familiar such agony, until Jared calms himself of his anger and the glow of his magic fades. The Warlocks had been caught, his Familiar is safe, there isn’t a need for his anger anymore.

Jared lets out a tiny sigh, forcing his head to clear and standing on wobbly feet. He rakes a hand through his overlong chocolate hair, and tries to think. His Familiar is sound asleep, his injuries completely healed, and Jared has no idea what he’s supposed to be doing now. Being the beginning of the summer holiday, he has no work to do here at home, so really, he could do whatever he wants. Just as he resigns himself to maybe getting some food from the kitchen, despite the fact that he really isn’t that hungry, a quiet jingling echoes around his home, and Jared hurries into his living room and to the oval mirror stationed against the wall near the front door, its silver frame crackling and ringing with deep blue light. Jared lightly taps the frame, and the reflective glass flashes with a mix of blueish green light before clearing, and Jared smiles at the man in the glass.

“Jared Padalecki, my least favorite Apprentice.” The man grumbles playfully, his teasing tone and the crinkle around his bright blue eyes leaving the remark completely weightless.

“If I’m your least favorite, then why do you call me every week?” Jared teases back with a light smile, although it doesn’t reach his eyes. “How are you, Misha?”

Misha Collins, formerly known as Dmitri a few decades or so ago, snorts inside the glass. “I took a trip to Tibet with Vicki; how do you _think_ I’m doing?” The older Witch grouses, although his eyes twinkle and shine with love for his mentioned wife. Misha and Vicki Collins had been married happily for several centuries, although neither of them appeared to be older than forty, and spent their time touring around the world, acting as philanthropists and Magical beacons of hope for the world. Jared often spent his time admiring Misha and Vicki’s ability to love so freely, to want to make the world a much better place, not only for their kind, but humans as well. He’d met Misha just a year after Jared had discovered his mother’s Grimoire, and the older Witch had happily taken Jared on as his Apprentice. Jared’s thirty or so years as Misha’s Apprentice, travelling the world and learning his craft was acknowledged as his fondest memories. Misha and Vicki had treated him as one of their own, even though they never had children of their own, and they were the closest thing that Jared had to family. “What about you? Still teaching?” Misha asks conversationally, flattening his jet-black hair that was blowing around in some wind.

“Still teaching.” Jared nods, but with a bright smile. “I’ll be taking the reigns as American History teacher next year.” Jared adds proudly.

“No wonder you and Vicki get along so well.” Misha snorts again, but with a fond smile. “Pair of nerds, the both of you.”

“You love us.” Jared counters. Misha shrugs but doesn’t deny it. Jared’s face falters, and of course, Misha notices.

“What’s wrong, little Witch?” Misha asks in concern.

“You’re not going to believe this.” Jared admits, his voice catching as his eyes begin to sting yet again. “I’m not sure I believe it myself.”

“Jared, you’re beginning to scare me.” Misha informs him, concern being replaced by worry. “What is it? What’s going on?”

Jared can’t make himself answer verbally, so instead he taps the silver frame of the mirror and mutters a short string of words, emerald magic extending out from his fingers and into the glass, where it swirls in a tiny circle in the bottom right half of the reflective surface. Misha gasps at the image, stunned amazement sparkling in his crystal blue eyes and causing his mouth to drop open, drinking in the image of the beautiful mountain lion lying on a pallet in what was clearly Jared’s bedroom. “ _Jared_...” Misha breathes.

“That’s not how I found him, Misha.” Jared croaks out, tears beginning to blur his hazel eyes. He blinks, and the tears slide down his cheeks as the image shifts. This picture is slightly hazier, and Misha recognizes the image of a memory, one of Jared’s memories. Misha wants to throw up at the sight of the cougar, Jared’s _Familiar_ , lying inside a steel cage in a dirty and grimy basement, obviously abused, his honey golden fur matted with dirt and blood, clinging to his skinny frame with the metal of the collar digging harshly into his neck, sapping the magical energy from his body. “He was _dying_ , Misha.” Jared whimpers, trying to scrub the tears away from his skin but only causing more to fall. “They-They nearly killed him, I had to pull him from the brink of death…”

“ _Dear Magic_.” Misha rasps, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Is he okay now?”

“He’s sleeping, cast a spell to help him sleep so I could heal him.” Jared nods bleakly. “I don’t know what to do, Misha.” Jared whimpers. “I-I healed his injuries the best I could, but I can’t just take the memories away, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do at this point-I don’t know how I’m supposed to make this better…”

“Jared Tristan Padalecki, you are one of a kind.” Misha hums with pride gleaming in his blue eyes for his former Apprentice. Jared blinks at him, confused. “You’ve healed all the physical injuries, and you know that there are bound to be some mental and emotional ones. You want so badly to erase his abuse from his mind, to make it better for him, but you don’t know that all you have to do is _be_ there. All you have to do is show him that he’s no longer there, no longer being held against his free will, no longer under the threat of being harmed when all there is will be the promise of being loved and cherished like he’s been created to reciprocate.” Jared sniffs and rubs at his face, and Misha peers at him in concern through the mirror. “Do you need us, Jared?” Misha asks in concern. “Vicki and I can be there in a split second.” He offers.

“No, no, I-I’ll be fine.” Jared shakes his head and offers a shaky smile. “But, I will call you if I need anything else.”

“Make sure that you do.” Misha commands.

“Thanks, Misha, really.” Jared smiles, a little stronger this time, and waves his hand in both farewell and to dismiss the call. The mirror flashes with a teal turquoise light before it clears, and Jared’s own reflection stares back at him in the mirror. Another sigh escapes past the Witch’s lips, and Jared rakes a hand through his hair once again before deciding on a course of action. He pads into the kitchen and pulls a bottle of water out of the fridge, a large bowl from the cabinet, and turns on the faucet, and fills the bowl before padding back toward the bedroom.

Jared lets out another disheartened sigh as he slides down the wall next to his Familiar, placing the bowl of water down a foot or so away so he wouldn’t accidentally spill it before taking a long drag from his water bottle. He jolts when the cougar whines and begins pawing out in his sleep, and instinct kicks in. Jared coos soothingly and caresses the puma’s head with his hand gently, but stiffens in surprise when the large cat pushes his head into Jared’s lap, snuffling into his stomach before settling down again. Jared doesn’t move for a long moment, unsure of what he _should_ do before remembering his old Master’s advice. Jared settles in for a long vigil, putting one arm across the cougar’s shoulders and tracing his fingers across the planes of the cat’s face, so gentle a touch that his Familiar won’t be woken by his ministrations. Under the soft light of the moon cascading down on the pair from the window, Jared’s voice is softly heard.

“I won’t ever let you be hurt like this again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I could have done a better job with the ending, but I'm also in the mood where I feel like my writing is absolute shit. So, yeah.  
> Think of Moonlight Hollow like JK Rowling's Hogsmeade, or Once Upon A Time's Storybrooke.


	3. Awakening

The scent is what brings Jensen back to full awareness, chases away the soothing darkness that he had been floating in and raising him back into the light. He lets out a mew of discontent, he doesn’t want the darkness to leave, he just wants to drift in it. Nothing hurts in the darkness, nothing can touch him there…Until he realizes that nothing _was_ hurting. There is no pain, not even a residual soreness, just the scent of wisteria and sandalwood with heavy notes of freshly ground coffee and a hidden spice of coconut. Jensen snaps his eyes open.

Gone is the cold metal of the floor of his cage. Gone is the view of nothing but dirty cement floor and steel bars enforced with Black Magic. Gone is the agony from the collar around his neck, the collar that was no longer there, along with the cold metal floor and the view of the cage bars and dirty cement floor.

All of it had been replaced. Instead of a cold floor, Jensen is stretched out in a nest of blankets, large warming quilts and fuzzy comforters that shielded his body from a carpeted floor in a billow of warmth and softness. Taking the place of the dirty cement floor and bars enforced with magic is a _bedroom_. Jensen isn’t lying in some dingy and dusty basement, he’s in a _bedroom_. A small one, occupied only by a large king-sized bed pushed up against the other wall, a wardrobe and dresser just a few feet in front of Jensen’s eyes, and a bookcase full of old tomes and picture frames just behind him. The pain from the collar, the pain in his body, it was just _gone_. Jensen is stunned by the feeling of cleanliness that clings to his once matted fur. He’s _clean_. His fur isn’t matted or dusty or coated with blood or grime. His fur is lying flat against his body, and Jensen believes this all to be some cruel dream, or he’s returned to Magic.

“Thank Magic. I was beginning to worry.” A voice mumbles softly, relief evident in the tone, and Jensen’s emerald eyes snap up in shock. It isn’t until that particular second in time that Jensen realizes that his head is lying in _someone_ _else’s_ lap.

His Witch smiles softly down at him, his fingers carding through Jensen’s scruff slowly, softly, his hazel eyes glimmering. “I was beginning to think that you wouldn’t wake.” His Witch admits quietly, using his free hand to push his overlong chocolate hair from his face.

_Who are you?_ Jensen blurts out.

 “My name is Jared Padalecki.” He replies. “And you are?” Jared prompts, his hazel eyes patiently inquisitive, and one eyebrow raised to be underneath his hair.

Jensen ducks his eyes. _Jensen_.

“My honor and Magic, Jensen.” Jared hums with another warm smile.

_How long was I-?_

“Asleep?” Jared finishes.

_Yeah_.

“I lifted the spell eight hours ago.” Jared confesses, glancing at the watch on his wrist.

_Spell?_

“Simple sleeping charm.” Jared reassures, seeing Jensen’s slight amount of alarm. The Witch’s face falls, his bright hazel eyes darkening. “When I found you, Jensen, you were on Death’s doorstep. I needed to be able to heal you, but I knew that the process may cause you more pain, so I put you under a sleeping spell so I could heal your injuries.” Jared explains, clearing his throat. His hazel eyes were faraway. “It took ten hours to completely heal you of what those bastard Warlocks did to you, and I lifted the spell eight hours ago, but you continued to sleep. You’ve been unconscious for nearly twenty hours.”

_And you-?_ The Familiar’s emerald green orbs stare up at his Witch in bewilderment.

“I have only left your side twice.” Jared confirms with a helpless shrug.

_You didn’t have to-_

“I needed to keep an eye on you, Jensen.” Jared interrupts gently. “Even if I healed all your injuries, those bastards still drained nearly every drop of Magic from your body, and that alone could have killed you. You nearly returned to Magic four times during those nineteen hours.”

_You shouldn’t have bothered._ Jensen closes his eyes with a small sigh. _I’m not worth that._ Jared freezes underneath Jensen, his hand stilling at Jensen’s scruff where his fingers had been idly scratching. Jared is still for several moments.

“You are to me.” The Witch finally forces out. “And I will _always_ bother.” Jensen, stunned, blinks up at Jared with wide, disbelieving emerald eyes, and is further bewildered by the sheer pain, raw emotion, and unfiltered tears that had filled Jared’s hazel orbs. Jared sniffs and averts his gaze, blinking the tears away before they can fall and clearing his throat. “Are you hungry? I can make us something to eat.” He offers. Jensen just nods, and struggles to climb to his paws. His legs shake with the effort of holding his small amount of weight, his limbs plagued with weakness, and Jensen fights to keep his balance and not fall back to the ground as Jared slips to his own feet underneath him. Fingers trail through his scruff, and Jensen mews in surprise at the strength bleeding from the appendages and into his body, chasing away the unsteadiness clinging to him. “It might be some time before you regain your full strength, but that should help to keep from collapsing on me.” Jared informs Jensen softly, allowing his fingers to scratch behind Jensen’s left ear before retracting his hand back to his side.

_You didn’t have to-,_ Jensen begins to protest.

“I wanted to.” Jared interrupts with a fond smile. Jensen’s Witch leads his Familiar out of the bedroom, and Jensen can’t contain his curiosity as they pad through the small house.

_Where am I?_ The cougar asks hesitantly.

“Moonlight Hollow, North Colorado.” Jared answers simply. His hazel eyes rake over the medium sized living room, housing a long leather sectional turned to face a fireplace with a television mounted over it and a long mahogany coffee table seated in between, a bookshelf and a long oval mirror sitting on the left-side wall next to the front door, with two other armchairs arranged on either side of the sectional. Pictures and decorations, some Wiccan, others awards, line the walls, and Jensen finds himself approving of the décor. “Like it?” Jared teases lightly.

_I do_. Jensen agrees, openly admiring the cozy and warming appeal of the entire house.

“I’m glad. I built this place myself.” There is a hint of pride in Jared’s tone. “With some help, but most of it is my own work.”

_Magic?_ Jensen asks curiously, padding out of the living room and down a small hallway toward a small, but again, cozy rectangular kitchen fitted with dark marble countertops, sleek silver appliances, light mint top cabinets and white bottom ones, sandy tile backsplash set around a bright window with a white frame over a large black iron sink, and sleek cherry wood floors. Sitting away from the kitchen counter is a dining table with four chairs of dark mahogany, the top of similar make, with white rounded legs and a white rug underneath. It is a simple but homely set up, one that Jensen can’t help but like.

“A little Magic, yes.” Jared admits, walking over to the stove and turning it on. “Chicken soup alright?” He asks with a raised eyebrow at Jensen, who nods his large head in acceptance. “Mainly Magic was just used for a lot of the heavy lifting. The rest was done by hand.” Jared smiles at Jensen as he fills the pot with water and sets it over the stove to heat. With a snap of the Witch’s fingers, the water inside is at a full rolling boil. “I worked on the plans for nearly seven years.”

_Why so long?_ Jensen asks curiously, watching his Witch with interest as he adds various ingredients to the pot and using Magic to make the spoon stir by itself as Jared gathers two bowls from inside one of the upper mint cabinets.

“I can be a bit of a perfectionist.” Jared confesses sheepishly. “I wanted my house to be exactly right, and without flaw. This would be the house I would spend most of my life in, I wanted to do it just right.” When Jensen just nods again, Jared’s attitude turns solemn. “Jensen, do you have any family?” The Witch asks as he pours the soup into each bowl. Jensen freezes, his emerald eyes widening to the size of the bowls.

_Why-Why are you asking?_ Jensen stammers. Jared sits one bowl down in front of the mountain cat and takes a seat next to him at the table, idly stirring the contents of his bowl with a silver spoon. _Why would you even **care**?_

“Because you are my Familiar.” Jared answers simply, as if that were the only one that matters. “And the things that are important to you are important to me and will always be.” Jensen is still, unresponsive, so Jared continues. “Jensen,” Jared slips out of his chair and kneels next to Jensen, slipping his hand into the golden cat’s scruff and scratching idly as his fierce, but still so gentle, hazel eyes lock onto stunned emerald green tides. “If you do have family out there, I would think that they would want to know that you are alright.”

_There-There is no telling how long I’ve been gone._ Jensen finally croaks after another few, and very pregnant, moments. _I lost track of time in that place. For all they know, I’m dead_.

“Wouldn’t they want to know that you’re not dead, but very much alive and with your Witch, healed and on the road to recovery?” Jared asks softly. Jensen can tell he isn’t trying to push the matter on Jensen, but is only asking because it needs to be addressed.

_You say we are in Northern Colorado?_ Jensen asks, sighing heavily. Jared just nods. _My-My sister would be the closest then. Her name is Mackenzie, and the-the last I heard, she lives in Idaho._

“I’ll need the name of her Witch if I’m to mirror call her.” Jared informs Jensen.

If cats can smile, Jensen will have cracked one at Jared. _She has no Witch, because she **is** a Witch_. Jensen replies, watching with a tad bit of amusement as Jared’s hazel eyes flash in surprise at the news. _I was born to a mother Familiar and father Witch._

“Ah.” Jared nods in understanding. “I see. Any other family I should try and contact?”

_My sister should reach out to my brother’s Witch, if they are still in contact._ Jensen’s shoulders flop up and down in a half-hearted shrug. _I have no other family besides them._

“You have me.” Jared reminds him softly, and Jensen blinks in surprise at the tender reminder. Jared smiles at Jensen, pained but with _love_ in his eyes and Jensen is once again stunned, and scratches Jensen’s scruff before picking himself off the floor and sitting back down in the chair. “I’ll call your sister once we finish eating.” Jared decides, then spoons a bit of the soup and puts it in his mouth. Jensen once again just nods, and bends down to lap at the contents of the bowl, trying to hide his surprise at the flavor exploding across his tongue, and his joy that he is actually eating something that wasn’t scraps or slops. “Good?” Jared asks softly, spotting Jensen’s reaction.

_Yes, I- **Thank** **you**_. Jensen swivels his head to catch Jared’s gaze, conveying all the things he wants to say but can’t put into words with his emerald orbs. His gratitude for being saved, his joy at being saved by none other than his Witch, his elation at finally meeting his Witch after so long, his excitement that he would be seeing his family again…everything the cougar is feeling but can’t make himself say, Jensen feeds into his eyes and hopes that Jared sees.

Of course, Jared does, and the Witch’s breath catches in his throat as tears prick his eyes, and Jared shakily smiles back. His hand once again finds Jensen’s scruff, but this time, Jensen leans into the touch with a small, hoarse purr. When was the last time he had purred? Actually _purred_? “You are _so_ welcome.” Jared’s voice trembles with raw emotion, and Jensen purrs again, succumbing to basic instinct that he had forgotten was there and rubbing his head against Jared’s leg. Jared laughs hoarsely, stroking his fingers through Jensen’s golden fur. “I need to fix you chicken soup more often.” Jared teases; Jensen just purrs louder. “Alright, you. As much as I’m enjoying this, you need to eat and regain your own strength.” Jared pats Jensen’s neck warmly, and Jensen turns back to finish his meal happily, his long tail swishing back and forth and occasionally hitting Jared’s socked foot.

Jared watches his Familiar for a long moment before ducking back to finish his own bowl, but his thoughts remained on the golden cat sitting next to him. He knows that, even if Jensen had opened to him, this will still take some work. Jensen had been abused just for being what he was, Jared knows it will take a lot of love and time and comfort and security for Jensen to completely shake his abuse off his back and enjoy his life with Jared. Jensen’s confidence and sense of worth in himself as a Familiar, as something clearly so precious in Jared’s eyes, had been absolutely shattered in the wake of those Warlock’s dirty work, and Jared knows he has an incredibly tedious and careful task ahead of him.

But with one more glance at his Familiar, Jared smiles and decides that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> AHH! DON'T KILL ME!!! (Runs and hides in the Panic Room at Bobby's.)  
> (Peeks head back out.) Was it really that bad? Eeep! (Slams the door and locks it.)


End file.
